


Apologies

by owlmoose



Series: Pieces of Thedas [52]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fandom Stocking 2015, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Alistair, former Grand Enchanter Fiona, and an awkward conversation at Skyhold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift from the 2015 round of Fandom Stocking.

The Inquisition had been operating in Skyhold for six months when Alistair decided to pay an official visit. Skyhold was in Ferelden, after all, and so at least theoretically under his protection and control. His first meeting with the Inquisitor, in Redcliffe, had been less than auspicious, but her staff had been so helpful in the negotiations with Orlais that he hoped this interaction would end more happily.

And so far, so good, he thought as he started up the tower stairs. His first day at Skyhold had been both productive and pleasant: he had met with the Inquisitor and her staff, taken the grand tour of the Keep, and spent the evening catching up with Varric. No drama, no explosions, no one mortally offended. Now he was headed for the rookery, on his way to a planned meeting with Leliana -- she'd been with the Inquisitor, of course, but he hoped to chat with her in a less formal setting.

The first landing brought him into a library, ringed with shelves and small windows. It bustled with activity, mostly mages in their robes browsing the shelves and chatting in the nooks that ringed the walls. He passed the fellow from Tevinter who had been at Redcliffe Castle; they exchanged nods as he passed, and as he walked around the room, he noticed a slowdown in casual conversation as people recognized him. Anyone who met his eye, he acknowledged, but most of them lowered their faces. Hard to blame them, he supposed, given that he'd kicked most of them out of Ferelden. Well, it was their own damn fault. Alistair refused to feel guilty about protecting his people, his hometown, his own foster-uncle. If they wanted to hate him, fine. He had tried to work with them, it wasn't his fault if their leader--

"Ali-- your majesty?"

He stopped dead in surprise, although if he'd been thinking, he would've expected to see her here. Where else would she be? And yet, his heart sank as he turned around. "Grand Enchanter," he replied, as he faced the mage Fiona, leader of the rebel mages, the source of all this trouble.

"Your majesty," she said again, bowing her head. "Please, if it's not too much of an imposition, may we speak for a moment?"

Alistair glanced toward the stairs. "I shouldn't keep Leliana waiting."

"It will be but a moment," Fiona assured him. "I wish only to apologize, for the unfortunate affair at Redcliffe."

"Unfortunate affair?" Alistair snorted with disbelief. "You took advantage of the hospitality I offered you and your people by allying yourselves with Tevinter cultists. You threw my most trusted advisor out of his home, and nearly brought ruin to not just my nation but the entire world. Is that what you consider an unfortunate affair?"

She winced. "Those words are entirely inadequate, I agree. As would be any apology I could make. Desperation is my only excuse -- at the time, I thought the Venatori our only hope for survival. But I should have known Tevinter would extract too high a price."

"Yes, you should have." Alistair gestured around the library. "And now you're subject to the Inquisition, which is probably a better fate than you deserved."

"Probably," Fiona agreed with a small sigh. She turned away. "I don't blame you for being angry with me; you would be a poor king otherwise. And you are a very good King, your majesty. You are compassionate, but you make your people the first priority. Just as you should." She started to reach toward him, then pulled back, as if checking herself, and Alistair all but lost her next words as she turned away. "Your father would be proud."

"My-- what? How do you-- wait!" She had already starting moving away from him, toward the door that led out onto the balcony, and he restrained himself from lunging after her. Instead, he followed at a measured pace, taking one careful step after another. She opened the door and stepped onto the balcony; before he could follow her through, she had closed the door firmly behind her.

He stood there, hand on the doorknob. Had Fiona known Maric? How was that even possible? He wanted to bang the door down, demand to know more, but nothing in her face or walk had welcomed his presence, or the question. So he shook his head and let go, resuming his walk back up to the rookery, composing a question for Leliana as he went. If she didn't already know about Fiona's connection to Maric, he was sure she could find out.


End file.
